


Burn

by SaphireKnight



Series: Moments in between... [4]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale, 半妖の夜叉姫 | Hanyou no Yashahime | Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Epic Love, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Let the flames begin..., Rin feels it too, Rin is QUEEN, Rin makes Sesshōmaru feel things, SessRin is canon, Sesshōmaru is whipped, True Love, True Mates, Virgin Sesshōmaru, all the feels, demon lover, its only going to get hotter from here, things he is not ready to understand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:01:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28926966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaphireKnight/pseuds/SaphireKnight
Summary: “Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us but we can't strike them all by ourselves”― Laura EsquivelRin is Sesshomaru’s match and the flame has been ignited...Series of oneshots, the moments in between what is seen in the anime. Defining interactions between the soulmates of the great DaiYōkai and the human that changed his destiny. An exploration of how Sesshōmaru fell in love with a human, ultimately defying all that he thought to be true, finding his greatest power through his salvation, Rin.
Relationships: Rin & Sesshoumaru (InuYasha), Rin/Sesshoumaru (InuYasha)
Series: Moments in between... [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102229
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> This moment takes place immediately following the events of episode 116. Sesshōmaru is leading Rin out of the spiritual barrier of Mount Hakurei, after coming to rescue her from abduction by Suikotsu and Jakotsu...

The air was heavy. _Thick_ . Its weight, practically as visible as it was felt. Everything was buzzing, prickling her skin. She could not help but be on guard, awaiting the tension to actually electrify a shock. The anticipation was terribly dizzying. She would give anything to speak her concerns, express her overwhelming gratitude, begin profusely apologizing and most importantly, _beg_ to be allowed to try to make it better. She was certain she was going to burst, desperately needing to fix what was destroyed. Despite the racing of her pulse, whirling of her thoughts, _ache_ in heart, she knew, _knew_ she must _wait_. 

He was angry. No, he was _furious_ . It was sharp, deadlier than the unassailable swipe of his poisonous claws. He was disappointed, no, disgusted, wait now it was outraged... _afraid_ ? The flurry of his emotions were so _strong_ and rapidly changing it was nearly impossible to sift through each tumultuous efflux from the next. He was miserable... and it _hurt_ . It hurt her so _deeply_ . The most glorious in all creation, magnificently powerful, generously kind, exquisitely beautiful, her divine savior, her absolute _everything_... was despondent. And it was all her fault. 

Refusing to remove her gaze from his retreating form, noting it being far more tense than his customary graceful posture, she loyally followed his aggressive strides down the rocky slopes. Impatiently, she waited for any signal she could initiate her nearly suffocating _need_ to reach out. Since that magical sunny day, in the meadow of gorgeous flowers, they had continued to share secret moments just between the two of them. Not only could she hear the marvelously smooth tones of his voice speaking to her, she could _feel_ him close. The shimmering golden string connecting them together would glow, allowing her to soar through the wonder of his majesty. She could _feel_ all that he felt. She could understand that which her heart had always naturally known. She could _see_ him and it was the most beautiful sight in the world. 

After that first time, he ensured that they maintained a focused hold on their respective sides to the connection, restricting the depth in which they would converge. Although the experience of his complete possession of her, lasted for only the flash of a moment, her gifted access to _all_ of him in exchange, could never be forgotten. She knew him better than anyone else in the world. Better than she knew herself. And yet, she could not abate her wanting _more_ . Every single thought he shared was a miraculous revelation, fascinatingly riveting. She could not help herself from feeling like she could fly on the wings of pure joy, each and every time she was able to catch a glimpse at a slight alteration in his expression, elated in knowing what had caused it. Every new addition was a cherished treasure safeguarded to her memory. But above all else, she thanked the divinity that had blessed her, every time she could feel the intensity of his _heart._

Unsure if the emotions of all yōkai were magnified, as that of their strength, endurance and mortality in comparison to ningens...regardless, she knew the depth in which _he_ felt was greater than all. The presence of his emotions was a sensation unlike anything else. Even in his annoyance, boredom, anger and buried sadness, there was an indescribable _eloquence_ that would forever leave her awestruck. Each and every one of his emotions were so magnanimous, powerful and staggering she immediately respected his forged necessity for control. At times it seemed that he was just as overwhelmed, if not more so, as she was by the severity of his feelings. And as such, she found him to be almost always unable to recognize that which was within himself. But she knew. Even if she didn’t know how, or why... she _knew_ . She knew _him_. And she could never get enough. 

At present, the golden glow of the bond between them was resolutely blocked. His side vehemently shielded. Even though it was _clear_ that he did not want to permit her access, the surface level residue of his inner chaos still bombarded her with the echoing aftershocks of his emotional turmoil. And so, she understood how _imperative_ it was that she wait. He was moving as quickly as he could without setting a pace in which she could not follow, adamantly focused on getting away. Not only away from the current landscape of immediate danger but that which was afflicting him more than he was comfortable to attempt. The purity of the spiritual barrier. Although he could withstand it, the wane of its exclusionary properties were aggravating his body, slowing down his ability to heal. 

_Heal_ ... he needed to heal...because he was hurt. He had bled. He had bled, because of _her_. The image of the Undead’s sword piercing his immaculate skin began to repeat in a torturous loop in front of her eyes. The despair of her guilt and horror at the disservice threaten to choke her. Tears pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision into a mess of indistinguishable silver, white and red. She must not cry. It would only make things worse and she would not dishonor him with such a grievance after being the afflicter of the unforgivable. 

“Rin”. 

She immediately lifted her watery gaze, her soul inherently responding to the irrefutable pull of his call. 

‘Are you in pain?’ 

The tentative glimmer of their bond’s glow unbid her grasp on restraint, flooding her desperation, guilt, shame, worry, gratitude, misery, faith, fear and all else that had consumed her throughout their separation. Swept away by the rush of her own emotional divulge, she unthinkingly closed the gap physically separating them, running until clutching the white fabric at the back of his left thigh. 

“Gomenasai, gomenasai Sesshōmaru-sama! It is my fault! You are so strong, powerful and brave but because of me you had to deal with those awful Undead. Gomenasai! To save me you were forced to go beyond the barrier. You fought so superiorly but...but...the sword...and your arm...your mighty arm…”. 

The impetus of tears raining down her face seemed to wash away her ability to speak. Another wave of shame and guilt swallowed her at the realization that she had done what she so desperately tried not to. Worse yet, she failed in properly expressing how thankful she was for his coming to save her. How much light had filled her soul when she saw him draw his sword, knowing its intent was her salvation. And the utter despair she felt at the sight of his blood. Unable to regain control of her betraying body, tears continued to obstruct her vision, blinding her from seeing the DaiYōkai kneel before her, face plagued with the taint of anguish, eyes pleadingly, tracking each droplet as if accumulating penance for their fall. 

“Rin. Look”. 

His voice prevailed dominance as her eyes obeyed his summon, widening at the discovered proximity of his majestic eyes boring straight into her own. Amber orbs hypnotized with the depth of their desperation. She knew she could happily devote the rest of her life to enduring any tribulation, if only she could bring those eyes, those _beautiful_ eyes, peace. She did not know what she could possibly offer one of his graciousness but she knew that all that she was, was _meant_ to be given to him. For he was her reason, he was her salvation. He had given her back her life, he is what made her soul _alive_ . There was only him. _He_ was all she needed. All she would _ever_ want. 

The burning desperation, dimmed to a softer golden hue. The fierce penetration of his gaze briefly flickered down to the space between them, quickly returning back with a renewed exacting bid. Intrinsically adhering to his command, she slowly lowered her eyes away from his, landing upon what he originally intended for her to see. His arm was suspended, proffered for her perusal, resting in the air, rendered to bridge their physical aperture. Fueled by the exigency of her concern, she quickly brought her hands to the hem of his sleeve, emblemed with red and white cherry blossoms. Urgently seeking that which she most feared, she pushed the cloth away from his wrist, past the crook of his elbow, without ceasing until she had uncovered the entirety of his arm, _needing_ to assess the extent of its abrasion. 

She could not repress her astonished gasp, the sight stunning her to stone. Pristine skin, the shade of moonlight, unblemished, unbroken, _perfect_ and unharmed. There was not a single trace of injury, nor indication of any kind that it had been sliced through earlier that evening. He had healed. He was fine. He wasn’t _hurt_. 

She could cry all over again, the staggering relief a palpable pounding in her heart. As the immense solace began to mend the festering of her wounded soul, a stirring sense of _awe_ saturated her entire being. Before her was the most exquisite physical embodiment of _strength,_ breathtaking in its contrastive _elegance_. 

He was so _beautiful_. 

Swept away by a force she could not possibly comprehend, she removed her right hand from its hold on the sleeve of his kimono, leaving the fabric scrunched under the voluminous fluff adorning his shoulder. With the tips of nonsensically bold fingers, she touched the immaculate skin of his forearm. 

The long awaited shock finally unleashed its bolt, titillating in its zinging frenzy. The collision was just as powerful as the first time she dared to act upon her deepest desire and touched his face. And exactly like before, the fiery sensation of her hands on his skin _seared_ , burning away all else, until there was nothing left but an insatiable need for _more._ Chasing the flames licking through her veins, her hand grazed down, then around, encircling his wrist, entranced as she traced the magenta markings painted there. Not only did the captivating stripes varnish the flawless planes of translucent white with resplendent color, they tingled her skin with their uniquely distinctive _texture_. 

The sound of his startled inhalation, immediately stilled her fingers as her eyes instinctually raised to his face, apologetic for her thoughtless impertinence. The fervency of his expression was one she had never witnessed before, it’s fierceness physically preventing any potential of escaping its incapacitating capture. She dared not blink, move or _breathe_ thoroughly imprisoned by golden vehemence. They stayed just like that, frozen for an innumerable length of time. Her petrified, him _tensed_ beyond comprehension, staring so assiduously into her eyes she was sure her soul was pierced through by his adamantine gape. For the first time, his expression was one encapsulating something entirely _foreign_ to her, past her ability of interpretation. The connection of their bond was _blazing_ , pulsing was such intensity, the waves of heat made everything completely indiscernible. 

She did not know what to do. 

Had she offended him so deeply he could not decide how to express the severity of her misconduct? Had she gone too far, disrespecting all the gracious trust he had bestowed her? Had she crossed beyond the boundary of his consent, dishonoring the intimacy he had allowed to be shared? Had she disgusted him with her insolence? How could she have been so reckless?! She hadn’t even asked for his permission! She simply _assaulted_ his glorious skin, greedily stealing what her desperate desire longed to claim. She felt her heart breaking, piece by piece, fearing what was to come, the light of her life ripping away from her, _tearing_ her until she was nothing but tattered shreds. Clinging to what could be her last moments in his presence, she remained unmoving, pouring all the love she had within her into his _still_ unrelenting gaze. 

He had not moved. His expression did not change. The tethering string connecting her to his emotions remained insensible. Due to the sudden induction of her immobilizing stupor, her hand had yet to leave its place, wrapped around his wrist. Her fingers were still spread, guilting their rapacious attempt to _feel_ as much of the scintillating tingle of his fuchsia streaks, as they could. Surely he wanted her to remove her covetous touch from his skin, _surely_ he did, but he had yet to actually provide any attestation, verbally or physically, insisting she do so. Refusing to disappoint him any further, she braved shattering that which had gracefully impeded the inevitable, and inquired as to how he wished for her to secede. 

“What should I do?”

A twitch, a crack, a fissure slowly dismantled the foundations of his impenetrable mask, breaking the suspension of astringent energy. The fervent fire in his eyes calmed to a bright flame, cooling the air from its scorching aeration. He suddenly took in a deep breath through his nose, and as she beguilingly mimicked the action in tandem, the pain from her neglected lungs rejoiced at the promise of preservation. After they both gathered in a few more urgently required breaths, the frantic pulsing quieted to a fluttering hum. With oxygen once more flowing to her brain, she realized he had not clarified how he wished for her to distance herself from his person. Just as she was about to complete the task on her own inference, his eyelids measuredly closed. 

She pleaded with the last shreds of her control to focus on anything _other than_ the intensifying inclination to brush her lips across the alluring exposed crimson. Horrified at her body’s rising hysterical impulses, she began to lift her index finger off the temptation of his sublimity. Contiguously his eyes snapped open, locking her once more with a command for paralysis. Almost instantly the ferocity subdued and a fleeting pass of discomfiture befell his features, as if he had not intended to demand her adherence so explicitly. 

‘My markings are sensitive to your touch’. 

‘Gomenasai, shall I…’

“Do as you wish”. 

For what felt like the thousandth time that night, she _froze_ , utterly terrified to move.

The humming of their bond began to vibrate, gently unveiling his presence, calmly yet _clearly_ reaching out to her. Like a tranquil mist she felt his ubiquitous essence cautiously surround her, and with it the soothing restoration of perspicacity. The vigorous velocity of the transitional tumult of his emotions, marginally _eased_ allowing her the chance to recognise their tincture before their consequent transposition. He had been drowning in an arduous abyss of his own making, claws strenuously searching for purchase, unable to quell the prevalence of _vanquish_ in the tempestuous storm. Without overtly expressing his thoughts, her enrapture granted her ingress to the crux of his pandemonious psyche, ‘ _You did nothing wrong… my senses are overly responsive...I did not mean to hinder your actions...do not stop... unless it is your desire to_ ’. 

When the sincerity was sonorously understood by them both, an alleviating sigh escaped her, a physical manifestation of atrocious affliction releasing its clamp on her heart. His golden eyes flickered with a pang of remorse but quickly melted into a reassuring warming flame. Consolidating their connection, psychologically and physically, his eyes gazed into her own as if she were the cynosure of his universe. Without breaking contact, he resolutely affirmed his consent with a prompting nod. She was incapable of stopping her demure smile from transforming into an euphoric incredulous giggle, as her spirit overflowed with gratitude. 

Humbled by his sanction, she delicately moved her fingers, grazing past the sensitized paintings of his wrist to the unmarked fair skin of his forearm. Marveling at the absence of contusion, she once again was flooded with indescribable relief at the proof of his well being. 

‘This Sesshōmaru is not so weak, to have been sufficiently wounded by boorish spectres of the dead.’ 

‘Hai Sesshōmaru-sama. You are immeasurably unrivaled in strength, agility, and excellence in combat. Forgive my unwarranted concern.’ 

“Hymph.”

Seemingly having provided an acceptable admission, she timidly continued her explorations of velvet soft skin above the invincible muscle thereunder. Gliding in the dip of his elbow, her eyes followed the path paved with her finger tips. The prominent definition of his bicep, was superlatively highlighted by two additional stripes hued like that of orchids. Enveloping the muscle, the stripes curved around until visibly returning at the base of his pronounced shoulder. She had never known of their existence, and as with every minuscule uncovering of his grandeur attained, her heart raced, irretrievably coveting the forbidden treasure in the depths of her soul. Right as the tip of her middle finger was on the verge of caressing a previously sequestered shaded strand, she stopped, lifting her eyes to his fixed gaze. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, she waited for his acquiescence. 

She was unabashedly overjoyed when she received it. 

The newly discovered precious representation of his inner prowess was just as potently _rousing_ as all the others. The bond flared with their joint reaction to her touch. The tingling sensation, pulsed dramatically, amplifying that which she could not perceive earlier. Distracted by her own sensory explosion, originally she could not differentiate the distinctions of sensation, nor from whom they had come from. Prepared for the addictive _stirring_ igniting her skin, she was now able to ascertain the response radiating through the bond, belonging to _him_ . She had surmised the burning intensity of his reaction to her touch as that of repulsion...she could not have been more _wrong_ . It was hot, hotter than any conflagration, but it did not burn from disgust, no it was an inferno of _avidity_. 

It was like that of the tingling sensation that had enthralled her, but magnified exponentially. The flames in her veins were warm, electrifying, _thrilling_ whereas his blood was imperiously _roasting_ . The severity of the heat alarmed her, so much so she was determined to let go, swearing to never chase after her own pleasure in spite of his, but an insistent _pulse_ demanded her focus... It was fine. It was good. It was _really_ good. 

The flames were unlike anything he had ever experienced, stronger, fiercer, _deeper_ , taking complete possession of his body. But he did not want it to stop. And he did not know why. And it _terrified_ him. 

He quickly squashed all traces of that fear, not allowing himself to even acknowledge its evinced blip, let alone have her analyze it. Sensing his impending retreat, an effective termination of all means of connection, a frenzied need to _hide_ away that which he himself did not understand, she ceased her psychological probing and focused all her attention back on the beautiful arm within her grasp. 

He was _so_ strong. Undeniably so, as the whole of her petite hand could not cover the entirety of his massive muscle. A surge of _awe_ overtook her again, reverential to the divine existence before her. 

She could not understand why she had been so blessed. Just one glance of his ethereal sovereignty would have been bestowal enough, a transcendental gift sustained in her memory, forever lighting the darkness of her life. Yet here she was, laying her course hands, caked with dirt upon his powerful sword wielding arm. This arm had drawn its weapon tonight for her. He had saved her. He had come back, for _her_. 

When she awoke in the arms of that horrible monster, disguised though he was, convincing in his act as a decent man, she immediately knew that she had to stay as close as possible to her last known location. The spiritual barrier that surrounded Mount Hakurei was uniquely powerful, threatening purification if Jaken-sama or A-Un got too close. Sesshōmaru-sama displayed no such weakness to its presence but his increasing determination to uncover its mysteries confirmed his prey was close, the danger significant. 

Seeing how quickly the evil one transformed back into a slaughtering fiend, fear pierced through her, recognizing just how perilously far away she was from her protector. As her captors dragged her further into the barricaded mountain she could not repress the slowly consuming dread at the intentional trap, meant to lure _him_ into the pure energy. She desperately wanted to be with him again, the thought of never seeing him again, a _pain_ worse than any brutal death, but she could not ignore the desideratum of her soul, wishing him away from potential harm. They went too deep within the barrier, she knew Sesshōmaru-sama would never adhere to such a blatantly precarious thre…

‘I will always come for you.’ 

The candor of his soothing baritone _resonated_ within her, astounding in its indomitable profundity. Her spirit was encompassed by an inexplicable force, seizing her with an impenetrable fortitude, staking _his_ insurmountable claim. Her eyes desperately sought his, only to instantly freeze at the sight. _Beauty_ , exquisite, celestial, enchanting, perfection...the _glow_ was breathtaking. His eyes were glimmering with the beacon to her soul, an unbreakable vow as formidable as it was _tender_. His whispered name flowed from her lips, substantiating her everlasting fidelity to his sanctuous wonder. 

“Rin...”

“Sesshōmaru-samaaaaa! Rinnnn-channn! Where are you??? Sesshōmaru-samaaa!” 

The distant languorous cry of Jaken-sama echoed in the surrounding rockface, accompanied with a telltale _scrape_ of the Staff of Two-Head’s being exhaustively dragged behind. Gasping in surprise, she turned her head, seeing the little green yokai’s dizzied-wobbling towards them. Instantly the tingling warmth beneath her fingertips was replaced with frigid night air. Instinctually her hand chased after its retrieval but the great DaiYōkai had already straightened to his substantial height, out of her reach. 

‘Sesshōmaru-sama…’

“Rin-chan!! You are alright! Undoubtedly, Sesshōmaru-sama destroyed those vile...”

“Let us go”. 

  
The wearied Jaken-sama immediately stuttered his compliance, stumbling after the retreating strides of his master. With her heart still pounding, she rushed to take her place, soul soaring with jubilation at being exactly where she belonged. Where she was always destined to be... following wherever _he_ led.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer!! 
> 
> For the purposes of this series alone, the pacing and way I would like things to progress, Rin's age will start at 10 with her turning 11 almost immediately after moving to Kaede's village. The proposal in the asatte recording taking place as she is on the cusp of turning 14 (like literally days before her birthday), making her age when SessRin twins are born 17/18. For anyone that thinks Sesshōmaru and Rin's first stirrings of attraction (lust) developing at this point as unrealistic, problematic etc. .... this is the fantastical story of an imaginary DOG DEMON, shiny pink wishing rocks, in feudal Japan. Rin and Sesshōmaru are true mates, with a literal SOUL BOND, their connection is pure, instinctual and destined...and will not be limited by anything in this humble exploration of their love story. 
> 
> I FULLY STAND BY RUMIKO-SAMA AND SUPPORT WHATEVER HER DESIGN OF RIN IS! 
> 
> Regardless of Rin's actual age (still not officially confirmed) my love for SessRin will not waiver and is immutable. 
> 
> I'm sure no one reading this actually NEEDED this clarification, but I just wanted to be upfront about my headspace for this work...
> 
> With that out of the way, thank you SO much to every single reader!!! Enjoy, my fellow SessRin lovelies ♥️🦋


End file.
